My name is Filiĭka Warbringer. I am the youngest child of Igra Warbringer, a god of games, and Uchi Starlight, a goddess of academics. My airhead of a brother, Misli Warbringer, has just left the house. Supposedly, he wants to go establish his own religion. I still can't believe that he almost forgot to say goodbye to me! TO ME!

Tired from a day of using my power, I lie upon my bed. As a child, immortals are still quite vulnerable. For one, children can die from decapitation or any other lethal wound. We children who have yet to form a domain need to sleep too. While adults can go on forever without sleep and food, most will still do it. It is for their mental health.

I sigh. Looking at my room's ceiling, thinking of my brother. Our surname, Warbringer, is a nod to our grandfather. He is the aspect of war. While we, the children, do not know his real name, we were told that if we were to ever need a true war. If we really needed to wage a war, we would learn his real name. We will learn War's name. And we will call him down to the battlefield. We will have war himself by our side. This is the true origin of our surname.

Gods do not typically have surnames. Having a surname is only possible when one is of a lineage that can be traced back to an Aspect or a Primordial. I once asked father why we inherited the Warbringer name and not Starlight. His answer was simple, War's blood was thicker.

Sighing once more, I wonder if my brother even knows of his surname. He is truly an airhead. Almost literally as well. That is if I can prove that his insides are made of air when he is in his intangible form.

With a huff, I got off my bed and grabbed my wooden sword. I went outside the house, walking into the jungle that is behind the house. Standing in front of a tree, I took a stance bringing my "single-edged" wooden sword to my left side with the tip pointed towards the ground. Holding the handle of the sword with my right hand, I place my left on my hip and lowered my body. Abruptly, I stepped my left leg forward and swung my wooden sword activating my power just as the blade hit the bark of the tree. I watched as the blade cleanly cut through the tree trunk. Only relaxing when the trunk started falling to my left.

My power, the ability to cut everything and anything. Only as long as I have enough internal energy to do so of course. Much like how my brothers have mastered their powers, I want to master mine. My birth had been the most dangerous of my siblings. So dangerous, that my parents had to intervene. The universe seemed to have cut itself when I was born. A tear in the fabric of our universe formed, albeit a small one only about 3 cm in length, but a cut nonetheless. My father had to close the tear himself.

My parents spoke to me in private when I turned 5 years old. They told me that I was born the strongest among my siblings. The most powerful. Misli, he who brings forth what he thinks. Dusha, he who burns souls. Filiĭka, she who slices all. So, basically, I am the only warrior. My brothers are more like mages, magic users. I should protect them. I should kill all our enemies. I shoul-

I sigh once more. I should focus on getting stronger. My brothers are not weak by any means. I am merely the strongest. My brothers both have the potential to shatter entire worlds on their own. With some creativity on their part, it is possible to do so in a single blow. Brother Misli once said so himself, stir the core of a planet hard with some telekinesis and the world will explode. Since he can do it. I should also be able to do it. I am the strongest after all. I just need to think of how I should go about it.

No, I shall keep training. One day, I vow to slice through planets with a flick of my sword. One day...